Photopalooza Friday-Gullah Folks

I am a Gullah gal. Both my maternal and paternal grandparents are/were Southerners, inhabitants of the low country. While we maintained our place in NYC for careers and educational opportunities, our home lives were always very much centered around Gullah tradition. Fish and grits Fridays, okra soup, hoppin' john (pois pigeon), and of course the Boo-hag.

I clearly remember spending summers at our home in St. George, SC and the reunions at the Camp Grounds of Shady Grove every October. (A series of log and ply wood cabins where the servants stayed during the white Christian's Camp Meeting) Each year in October for 2 weeks we'd give up our cozy homes with indoor plumbing, MTV and electricity to pay homage to the way it was. As a child, it was just plain fun, I never quite "got it". As I aged, and my awareness grew I felt a strong sense of belonging during Camp Meets. It was a time to really learn about my history; black history, from black historians, not just text books about us.

I haven't been "home" since 2004. My paternal grandparents have passed, my maternal grandfather has passed and, my maternal grandmother, "Ma" prefers travelling to all of our respective homes to having us gather in SC. I suspect the migration to NYC was much more her idea than my grandfather's. She definitely headed the assimilation project. I love her, she's a very intelligent, progressive woman for her time, not to mention quite hysterical . I don't know when I'll make it back, all of us grandchildren and great-grandchildren are agnostics, and liberals, urbanites and buppies. A 2 week long religious themed, camp-out sans indoor plumbing and wireless internet is well...not the new black. Pun not intended. Laughs.

These are pics from my last pilgrimage home, as my youngest child, Yael meets her Carolinian kin-folk. If you look closely, you can see a few real-life historians in the mix. Enjoy.